


Even If You're Broken

by solskatering



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solskatering/pseuds/solskatering
Summary: One night can change everything, and the consequences can last for years.





	1. One Night

The bright red light of the cheap alarm clock numbers read 3:41. The little red indicator dot is beside the letters, and though he can’t read the tiny writing on the side of the clock, he knows the dot is for A.M.

It’s 3:41 A.M., and he’s alone in the hotel room.

He vacillates between rage and worry, running his fingers up through his hair until his hand connects with the pillow and gets too tangled in curls to move farther.

He thinks about texting him, but puts the phone down as soon as he picks it up. A growl of frustration escapes him, because he doesn’t want to imagine what he’s doing out this late. Doesn’t want to imagine it, and yet the images flood his thoughts anyway and he abruptly sits up, as if he can dodge his own thoughts.

He hears the little whirl of the electronic lock, and the keycard sliding out of the lock before the door is practically thrown open, heavy footsteps staggering inside. He leaps to his feet in the darkened room, crossing the few steps to the edge of the bedroom, where it meets the mini hallway leading to the bathroom and the front door.

The door falls shut behind Dean, who’s too drunk to even turn the bolt as he falls against the wall, bumping into the tacky mirror that teeters precariously close to falling off.

“Where the hell have you been?” Seth demands, keeping his voice as low and controlled as he can despite the almost-suffocating fury rising up in him.

Dean’s head rolls along the wall; looks up at him in the darkness. Even in the nearly-black room, he can see Dean’s lips curl up in a wolfish smile, his tongue curling down to his bottom lip. His eyes are lit with glee. “Enjoying the wild night life Seattle has to offer.”

Seth clasps his hands together to keep them from shaking in rage. “It’s 3:30 in the morning, Dean. We’ve got to be up in six hours. What were you thinking?”

Dean’s smile turns into a wide grin that Seth wants to smack off his face. “You sound like a jealous girlfriend.” Seth’s stomach plummets, glad for the darkness that covers his flaming cheeks. With a concerted effort Dean pushes himself off the wall, his shoulder dragging against it impossibly loud in the nearly-silent room. He speaks as he half-staggers, half-swaggers toward Seth. “But don’t worry, Baby, I would never cheat on you. In fact, I left a sexy little thing in the bar just to come back home to you.” His fingers close around Seth’s hip bones, his thumbs sliding under the hem of Seth’s shirt and touching the bare skin over his sweat pants.

“Don’t touch me, jackass,” Seth snaps, smacking Dean’s hands away, angry that it’s such an easy joke for Dean. Oblivious Dean, who has no idea how much his words sear through Seth’s brain and heart and straight into his soul, almost choking him and knocking his breath away more than a choke slam from The Big Show. He’s not even sure what he’s more angry about—that Dean was sexing up some chick he would never see again, that Dean’s kept him up until nearly 4:00 A.M. worrying about him when they have a show tomorrow, or that Dean is able to make light of something that breaks Seth’s heart every day.

“Why are you so mad?” Dean complains, rocking back on his heels slightly, shoving his hands in his back pockets. He flashes a wicked grin. “I came home, didn’t I?”

“We have to get up in six…!” Seth starts, his voice bordering on shouting. He catches himself; shakes his head in disgust and turns away. “Never mind. Just go to sleep.”

“If you’re going to act the part of the jealous girlfriend, can I at least get a little action?” Dean’s teasing hand reaches out and grabs Seth’s hip again, and all Seth can see is Dean’s hand gripping some random girl to him, her body pressed against his, “ ‘cause that blond number was practically _begging_ me to go home with her—“

Seth sees red and before he knows what’s happening Dean is sprawled out on his back on the floor at his feet, a hand to the left side of his jaw. There’s a slight laugh of disbelief from him as Seth tries to steady his breathing, inhaling and exhaling so hard he can hear it. His hand stings, and he knows Dean will have to spend twenty minutes in the makeup chair tomorrow getting the bruise covered up, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Dean drawls, then laughs.

Seth wants to kick him. Hard. Instead he steps over Dean’s sprawled out body, stalking toward the door.

“Seth, wait!” Dean protests. Behind him, Seth can hear Dean trying to drag himself up. “Seth—“

He throws the door open and stalks across the hall, pounding on Roman’s door. Roman’s a light sleeper, thankfully, and a moment later he hears footsteps and the door opens, flooding the inside of the small darkened hallway with light. Roman squints at him, and he probably looks like hell because Roman wordlessly steps back, holding the door open to allow Seth access to his room. Seth steps past him gratefully, trying to keep the burning sting of tears out of his eyes as he heads to the spare bed in Roman’s room, curls up in a ball, and tries to pretend he’s not crying.


	2. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth tries to move on to save himself.

Stephanie McMahon plays a villain on TV, but Seth thinks she gets all her nastiness out on the show, because she’s the nicest person he’s ever met. He goes to her with his request, because he knows she’s kind and she’ll understand without him having to explain why he wants to leave the Shield. Triple H would ask questions, and he doesn’t want to answer them—doesn’t want to have to make up more of an excuse than the lame one he’s already concocted.

His heart aches as he lightly knocks on her makeshift office door. At her call he opens the door and hesitantly steps inside. She’s sitting on a small leather loveseat with a clipboard in her lap and a stage hand beside her, writing some comments on the paper. She must see something in his face because she smiles up at the attendant and asks him to excuse them. The stage hand nods and quickly walks out, closing the door behind them.

Stephanie stands; offers him a bottle of water. He declines, clasping his hands together to try and steady them. It doesn’t work, so he shoves them into his back pockets. His voice shakes as hard as his heart as he blurts out, “I want to leave the Shield.”

Stephanie is silent for a moment. Her warm eyes regard him calmly, though he can tell he’s caught her off-guard. He doesn’t blame her for her surprise—he, Dean, and Roman had fought emphatically to stay together every time anyone had even hinted at separating them. And yet there he was, asking to be taken out of the very group he had spent years protecting.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

He’s not. Everything in him is breaking. “Yes.”

She pauses again, picking up a bottle of water and opening it. She’s buying herself some time, and he doesn’t mind, as long as she doesn’t ask too many more questions. “If you do this, it will be years before we can put you back together,” she finally warns him, and he knows that’s that, and she’ll sell it, because she knows he’s desperate and something is wrong and Stephanie is really a kind person.

“I know,” he says, and his voice is a hoarse, dry whisper. He wants to clear his throat but it’s too dry to even do that. His eyes fall to the stone floor, the weight of keeping them up too much for his broken strength to carry.

She’s silent for another moment. He doesn’t know if she’s giving him a chance to change his mind or to open up to her, but he does neither and she lets out a soft breath. “I’ll talk to creative. We’ll figure something out.”

He wants to thank her; wants to look her in the eye when he does it because he knows she’s taking a huge risk for him. But his eyes are burning and the floor is getting blurry where he’s staring at it, and he can’t let his boss see him like that. “Thank you,” he finally whispers.

“I’ll go make some calls. You can hang out here for a bit if you’d like.”

He wants to fall to his knees and hug her when she walks past him. She knows he’s about to lose it and there’s no where more private than Stephanie McMahon’s office to try and get himself together before he has to go back out there and face the world again.

When the door clicks shut behind him, he finally crumbles, crouching on the ground and hugging his legs to his chest. He lets out a sob, just one, because he’s actually done it and there’s no going back. Not anymore. He can’t stay away from Dean and he can’t protect his heart from him so he’ll burn the bridges between them until there’s no way for him to go back.

It’s all he has left.

When he’s calmed down enough that just breathing doesn’t make him want to cry, he forces himself to his feet. He feels like there’s a giant weight on his chest, constricting his breath and making him lightheaded and sick to his stomach, but he staggers out of the room, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. Everything looks blurry and he’s not sure where he’s going unless he tries hard to focus. He needs to get to the locker room and get ready—he and Dean have a tag match tonight and he’s going to need all the strength he has left to get through it.

Dean is lacing up his boots and Roman is pulling on his vest when Seth enters. Seth forces a nonchalant greeting at them as he heads to his locker, reaching for his gear. He’s shaking, though, and cracks his knuckles to try and steady his grip.

“I can’t believe you’re being such a bitch about last week,” Dean says, but it’s more amused than exasperated. Seth snaps back to look at him on the bench. Dean finishes lacing his boot and sits up, leaning back on one hand to look up at him. His lips are lifted slightly, his eyes light, but there’s something deeper in them that Seth doesn’t quite understand. “I didn’t realize your beauty sleep was _that_ important to you, princess. I promise from now on I’ll keep a strict 8:00 P.M. curfew.” He holds up his free hand in the Boy Scout salute.

Seth is confused, because he hasn’t said a word to Dean about the week before. In fact, he’d hidden in an empty room before their match and had left the arena as soon as it was over. He hadn’t said a word to Dean since he walked out of the hotel room that night. “What?” he asks.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Dean asks back. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that I went to bed and woke up by myself last night? I may live in my own world a lot, but even I noticed that.”

“Aw, Dean, did you get lonely?” Roman teases, poking a finger at Dean’s cheek.

Dean snaps his teeth at Roman as if to bite the finger Roman quickly pulls back, his eyes never leaving Seth’s. “Well you know how I feel about the dark,” he tosses back. “Makes me all—twitchy.” He waves his hands to illustrate his point.

Seth turns away, because he can’t keep looking into those endless eyes, full of locked doors and layers that just grew more protected the deeper they went. “I got my own room,” he says, stepping out of his shoes.

There’s a moment of silence in the locker room. He’s stripping out of his shirt, mostly to cover his face, but even the sounds of his movements seem muted. He can hear them both thinking, hear their thoughts even if there aren’t any words.

And then there’s a brush of wind against his now-bare arm and the flush of heat as Dean leans a shoulder against the locker beside him, so close Seth can feel the edge of his vest touching his bare skin. Dean’s eyes are locked on his, and Seth is almost scared, almost wants to take a step back but he’s trying to sell his nonchalant attitude.

“Are you that mad about last week?” Dean asks, and it’s quiet and serious, and Dean is neither of those things. His eyes are burning into Seth’s, and Seth just wants to breathe but he doesn’t dare because he just wants to finish this on a friendly note; make them believe it’s no big deal. “Because I’m the one who ended up with a bruise covering half my pretty face, you know.” He gestures to the scruffy jaw, the green bruise mostly hidden by the slight beard.

His voice is light, but when his eyes come back and meet Seth’s there’s nothing light about the look.

Seth tosses his shirt in his locker, because he needs to break the look and it’s the best excuse he’s got. He unzips his bag and pulls out his uniform shirt. “I don’t know why you’re making it such a big deal, Ambrose,” he lobs back, as teasingly as he can. “We make enough now that we really don’t need to be splitting a hotel room fee. Are you afraid you won’t be able to sleep without me to protect you from the big scary monsters in the dark?”

“You mean himself?” Roman drawls, and Seth laughs up at him gratefully, because Roman broke the tense moment without even trying, smoothing over the awkwardness.

Dean doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t move, either, watching Seth from just inches away. Seth has to turn away to avoid hitting Dean when he pulls his shirt on, and when his shirt is settled his cheeks feel flushed and he forces himself to give Dean his most exasperated, innocent stare.

Dean stares for just a second longer before he breaks the look and holds his hands up in surrender. “All right, princess, have it your way. But when you can’t sleep because you’re scared of being alone, you only have yourself to blame.”

“Dick,” Seth mutters at him.

Dean laughs. “A night of sleeplessness should sugar you up real quick.” The breath shoots out of Seth’s lungs when Dean’s hands wiggle his hips against his own. “You’ll be crawling back in no time.”

Seth smacks his hands away and Dean laughs as he straddles the bench, catching the towel Roman throws at his head with one hand. Seth’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he quickly trades his jeans for his uniform pants, throwing himself down onto the bench to lace up his boots. He’s deliberately ignoring Dean, who doesn’t seem to notice as he and Roman discuss who they think their next opponents should be.

The match goes well; it always goes well. And that night as he’s crawling into the large bed by himself in the black room he lets himself indulge in just one more sob for the day. And then he cries silent tears until sleep takes mercy on him and the blackness swallows his consciousness.


	3. Splitting Up is Easy (But Moving on is Hard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bittersweet ending and an attempt to move on.

“No.”

“Dean—“

“No,” Dean insists. He looks accusingly over at Roman. “Say something,” he orders.

Roman is staring at Stephanie and Vince almost blankly. Seth knows that look. Roman is a lover, a giver, not a fighter. And Seth has to give Stephanie and Vince credit—they made a solid case for the destruction of the Shield. It was hard to argue with them.

“Seth,” Dean implores, and there’s a note of desperation in his voice; a pleading that makes Seth’s heart ache even more than it already does. He tries not to wince, but he does anyway, reluctantly dragging his eyes from the floor to Dean’s.

Dean’s blue eyes are stormy, the outrage and fury twisting his boyish features. At Seth’s face he straightens and leans back, his eyes going wide. “You can’t honestly buy into this bullshit!” he objects, and of course Dean would say that, even in front of the two people in the company who could fire him the next minute.

Seth is just glad Stephanie and Vince are able to be the bad guys, and guiltily he hides behind them even though this was his request. “They have a point, Dean,” he admits. Dean draws back, betrayal joining the rest of the emotions on his face. “Look, none of us came to the WWE wanting to be tag champions. We all came to be the man. To own the championship belt.” He feels bile in his throat, because he does want to be the champ, but he wants to be in the Shield more, and this is breaking him, staring into Dean’s eyes and lying to him. “This is our chance, man.”

Dean stares hard at him, silent. They’re all waiting for Dean, and Seth doesn’t really know why, or when he became their unspoken leader, but they’re waiting for him, anyway. Even the owners are waiting for him to say something, anything, but Dean’s just staring at him, and Seth wonders what Dean reads in his face and tries to keep it supportive and earnest, silently chanting for Dean to believe him.

“Ro?” Dean asks, but his eyes stay on Seth’s.

There’s a moment of silence. “Brothers don’t need a faction to be brothers,” Roman says.

Seth doesn’t know why, but the words stab through his heart and soothe him at the same time. Dean holds his gaze for a second longer, then looks up at Stephanie and Vince. Seth watches as Dean leans back in his chair, flashing them a slow grin. “Can I be the one to feud with Seth when he turns?” he asks. It’s such a drastic difference that Seth blinks, his heart dropping into his stomach. And he doesn’t know why, but that makes him feel better, too, like maybe they can move on and be okay. “That pretty face could use some messing up.”

They finish going over the outline Stephanie and Vince have worked out for them, and mostly it’s them and Dean and Roman talking, because Seth just feels exhausted and defeated and grateful. Grateful because he’s managed to get out of this mess without hurt feelings or destroying the brotherhood they had all so carefully cultivated. And he’s devastated, because Stephanie and Vince lay out the ground rules for their split and he’s not allowed to drive with Dean and Roman anymore, or room with them, and suddenly he wishes he hadn’t already stopped rooming with Dean because he’s never going to get to room with him again and the last memory he gets is stepping over Dean as he walks out of their room. As they talk he realizes how lonely his existence is about to become and he wants to take it all back—wants to protest the idea they’re all suddenly so excited about.

The meeting lasts less than an hour and that’s it. And it’s all painfully easy and it breaks Seth’s heart because they spent years together and it’s over just like that. In an hour everything they’ve built together is over.

That night in his hotel room, Seth forces himself not to cry, because this is what he wanted, and he’s just lucky that it all worked out so smoothly, and he hates how smooth it was because he doesn’t understand why they didn’t fight harder—why Roman and Dean didn’t argue with Stephanie and Vince and stand up to them and demand to keep the Shield together. But then he reminds himself this was what he wanted and he still won’t let himself cry, even when the tears slip out unwillingly, because he did this. He was the architect of their demise and he should be thanking Stephanie, not hating her, because she did this for him. And he should be thanking his brothers for being so understanding, not hating them, because they made it easy and painless, insisting nothing could break their bond even if they weren’t together on screen anymore.

But he knows it’s over and he still won’t let himself cry. Not until the night he hits Roman with a chair and publicly destroys the Shield. That night he cries himself sick and then cries some more, and the next day he feels like shit and can’t cry anymore and tells himself he won’t cry again.

And it’s easy. Maybe easier because it’s Dean he’s feuding with and even if he can’t see Dean outside of the ring anymore he at least gets to see him in it, and he’s grateful for every match they have together because he can still feel Dean’s hand clasped against his own, and Dean’s arms wrapped around him, and sometimes he can’t execute his moves because he just wants to rest in Dean’s arms and cry, but he forces himself to get it together and their feud is awesome and painful and he can still feel Dean’s kiss on his head and he hates himself all over again.

Dean starts dating Renee Young shortly after they split, and Seth is relieved because Renee is nice and she’s been after Dean for a while, and she’s a little wild and reckless like Dean and they’re a good match. And he tells himself he’s okay when he sees them in their own little world backstage, whispering and laughing together over private jokes, sharing an intimate space Seth has always known couldn’t be his. And at night he still refuses to cry, because he tells himself it’s all part of moving on and some day it won’t hurt as badly as it does now.

Dean’s texts slowly fade out over time, until Seth is only getting one every few weeks, and knowing Dean has Renee to be with him makes it easier than Seth thought it would, because he doesn’t want Dean to be alone.

So he ignores the part of his life that was wrapped up in Dean Ambrose and starts working on himself and his career and why he joined WWE in the first place, and then it’s Wrestlemania and he’s pinning Roman and he’s the champion, and he’s thrilled and delighted and he wants to pick Roman up off the mat and hug him because Roman had been enthusiastic about the idea when Vince and Stephanie brought it to them, and Seth knows he owes everything to Roman.

When they get backstage Roman’s the first person he hugs. They embrace for a long time, Roman repeating how happy and proud he is of Seth, and Seth unable to stop thanking him. When he forces himself to let go of Roman, Roman beams down at him and affectionately pats his cheek. Roman’s cheeks are red and he’s covered in sweat and he’s just had his title stolen from him, but he looks as happy as if he’d won the belt himself and Seth can’t help but hug him again.

“All right, you two, get a room,” he hears someone say, and then there are hands tugging his arms away from Roman. His heart skips into his throat when he’s lifted in the air and into a fierce hug, the painfully once-familiar scent and feel of Dean Ambrose wrapped around him.

“Congratulations, Seth,” Dean says, and it’s heartfelt and sincere and Seth feels tears sting his eyes. Dean’s breath is warm against his ear, his low voice drowning out all the other chaos in the room. “You deserve it, man.”

And Seth has just achieved his dream so he allows himself this one moment and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder and clings to Dean, his fingers digging into the firm flesh of Dean’s shoulder and back. Dean’s more muscular and slender than he was before, and Seth is almost concerned but mostly he just can’t believe how different Dean feels even though it’s only been a year. He wonders how much else he’s missed and a shaky breath escapes him before he can stop it. It’s all different now and he wishes he could just go back in time and re-do it all because he wants to know what Dean’s been doing to change his body so much, and what television shows Dean can’t miss now, and if Dean still has a weakness for McDonald’s French fries and bar food.

Dean’s hand grips the side of his head and then there’s a kiss right in front of his ear before Dean steps away, grinning at him. He’s as boyish and mischievously sexy as he always was, but it’s different, now. He had always pictured Dean and Roman in the ring with him if he ever won the championship, being swallowed up by their hugs. It’s bittersweet and painful and he swallows the lump in his throat, clapping Dean on the arm before he’s swept up in another hug. He isn’t even sure who’s hugging and congratulating him, because all he can think about or see are Dean’s eyes in his mind, haunting him.

And that night in the hotel he’s alone in his room with his title belt and he’s happy and grins at it, but his smile dies when he realizes it doesn’t mean anything in the silence of his room. Still, it’s all he’s got, so he hugs it and lays down on the hard bed and closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe.

The next day he takes off for home and spends a week alone in his house. He doesn’t even bother showering unless he needs to go get groceries, and it’s liberating and kind of disgusting and he’s not entirely sorry when he has to shower to get ready to leave. The vacation is over too soon and he’s back on the road again, somehow more alone than he was when he was isolated in his house.

For a while he’s cruising at the top of their company, and he’s selling almost as much merchandise as Cena and everything is going his way. And even though he eats almost every meal alone and outside of work doesn’t really talk to anyone not in the service industry, he’s content enough. He still talks to Roman regularly, at least a couple of times per week, and sometimes Roman will even arrange for their rooms to be next to each other and then sneak over for a movie night. It’s those little moments that keep Seth going, but even that’s not the same as it was, and he’s lonely and empty but it’s of his own doing so he just accepts the bed he made for himself and is grateful for what he does have.

And then his knee gives out on him.


	4. Not So Long Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth's back from his knee injury, but it's different now. Dean shows him it doesn't have to be.

Seth is confused when he steps into the empty arena. He walks down to the ring, hesitating when he sees someone vault to their feet in the middle of the ring.

“Dean?” he asks, his voice ringing out in the eerie silence of the oversized building. “What’s going on?”

“C’mon, brother,” Dean drawls, his face alight with mischief and mirth. “I thought we could spar a little—get you back into practice. Knee’s lookin’ a little stiff.”

Seth freezes, because he knows he’s favoring his knee. He’s seen the footage and he looks terrible—the ninja skills Dean had often affectionately referred to gone, replaced by a lumbering, hesitant stone.

And he doesn’t want Dean to be the one to call him on it. It’s humiliating enough, and more so that Dean is breaking the semi code of silence they’ve had for almost two years now. “I’m not really up to it, man,” he tells him, and it’s not really a lie. “I’m not even warmed up.”

“C’mon, Seth, what happened to the man who used to jump me from across the room right after I woke up?” Dean steps on the bottom rope and pulls up the middle, eyes twinkling down at him.

“That was a long time ago,” Seth reminds him, because it hurts, because he remembers it like it was yesterday and he shouldn’t because it was over two years ago, when life was easy and every day was fun. When he knew what it was like to have friends and be a brother and every day felt like a gift.

“Not so long ago, Seth,” Dean says, and his voice is almost soft, and the slightly-manic smile fades a little. It makes him look gentle and affectionate, and that’s what brings Seth to set his bag down outside the ring, carefully climbing the stairs and stepping through the ropes Dean separated.

He’s halfway through when the rope suddenly snaps up under him and he’s being planted in Dean’s signature Dirty Deeds. He yelps in surprise and scrambles to get up, gaping at the man sitting on the ring, grinning up at him wildly as if he’s just done something great.

“Wait until I warm up!” Seth explodes.

“Why?” Dean demands. He vaults to his feet, his eyes filled with glee. “C’mon, Seth, let loose. Shake it off, Taylor Swift style.” He shakes out his hands and his shoulders to demonstrate his point.

“I just spent the better part of a year trying to recover from an injury. Are you trying to put me out with another one?” Seth scowls at him, wondering how Dean could be so reckless and careless with his health. For the first time he wonders if Dean is actually trying to injure him permanently—if Dean really wants him out of the picture for good.

A leg shoots out and kicks out the back of his bad knee. Seth cries out in terror and tries to hop it, but he goes down and then he’s stuck in a leg lock and the back of his leg feels like it’s being torn and shredded. “Dean!” Seth howls. “What the fuck, man! Dean! Stop!”

“Make me!” Dean calls back, over Seth’s loud protests. He sounds infuriatingly lighthearted about the entire situation and Seth wants to hurt him—wants Dean to feel what it’s like to have his leg buckle under him in the wrong direction in front of an arena full of people, then spend seven months recuperating only to find out the leg would never be 100% again.

“Dean!” Seth cries, and he’s seeing red and he’s not sure if it’s anger or pain or both tainting his vision.

“Been waiting a long time to hear you cry my name like that, Rollins,” is the mischievous taunt.

That’s it. Seth hadn’t wanted to play dirty, but he kicks Dean as hard as he can just inches from the man’s tender spot. Dean jumps and releases his hold, but Seth seizes the opportunity to jump on him, knees on either side of Dean’s stomach as he pummels him.

“Playing dirty?” Dean teases, sounding breathless. He flips them, pinning Seth under him. His blue eyes are blazing as they lock onto Seth’s and Seth feels some of his newfound strength fade. “I like this new you. Name the time and place, baby.”

Seth yelps in outrage, swinging his good leg up and using the leverage to pin Dean’s back to the mat, glaring down at him as their positions are once again reversed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands furiously.

“So much,” Dean laughs, and then he rolls out of the hold and he’s on his feet. Seth vaults up to his feet to match his height, not wanting to give Dean the advantage. Dean steps forward, as if he’s going for a headlock, but he spins and Seth can’t keep up on his bad knee. He cries out as Dean kicks it out from under him and he cracks down on it on the area, an exclamation of terror and pain escaping him as he clutches the throbbing knee.

Hands grab his, fingers interlacing with his as they’re locked above his head. A knee plants itself against his chest, right under his chin, and through frightened eyes he looks up at Dean. His knee hurts. His hands hurt. Dean is kneeling on him and practically choking the life out of him, and he wonders, briefly, if this is how he’s going to die. If Dean is actually going to kill him. And he wonders if he deserves it; if he had ever done Dean so wrong as to deserve this.

“The old Seth would have dodged that like a cat,” Dean says, and his hair isn’t long but it’s hanging around his face as he leans over Seth and it feels like a veil between them and the world. And his voice is low but it’s the only thing Seth hears besides the pounding of his heart against Dean’s leg.

He nearly chokes on his words but tells himself it’s Dean’s knee and has nothing to do with the pain and humiliation he feels at having disappointed the only person in the world whose opinion he cares about. “The old Seth didn’t have a bad knee to worry about.”

“Neither does the new Seth.” Dean’s making himself comfortable, even Seth can see that. He’s got most of his weight on the leg he has tucked along Seth’s side, but there’s enough of his weight on Seth’s chest that breathing isn’t easy.

“No?” Seth asks, his voice sticking in his throat. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“Lots,” Dean agrees, so conversationally that it irritates Seth before it almost amuses him. “But when it comes to your knee?” The fingers that have been gripping his so tightly relax slightly. “I know you don’t need to be so scared that it’s going to give out on you.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s choking back a lump in his throat until he feels the tears sting his eyes. “You have no idea what it’s like,” he accuses.

“No,” Dean agrees. “I don’t know what it was like for you to feel it go out. I don’t know what it was like to have your match called and get stretchered out. I don’t know how much pain you were in or how humiliated you were or how hard it was not to quit during rehab. I don’t know any of that. But I do know you have nothing to be scared of.”

His throat is thick. Thick and lumpy. The feeling isn’t foreign enough, and he knows that after two years of forcing himself to keep it together, he’s about to start bawling in the middle of the ring. In front of the person he never wanted to see him cry. He hates Dean Ambrose. Hates him more than anything. “I am scared,” he whispers.

Dean’s face is serious, but a gentle smile graces it. “I know,” he says softly. “But you don’t need to be.” His smile grows, his eyes lighting. “Look at Bryan. Dude stepped out at the top of his game. He’ll never know what it’s like to watch them slowly turn on him. And in the fan’s eyes, he’ll never be able to do any wrong because he gave them everything and they know it and they fucking love him for it. And he’s got a smokin’ hot wife who is insanely out of his league and he gets to bang her every night and he doesn’t have to work another day in his life and he’s still set.” Dean leans down. “So what’s to be scared of, Seth? No matter what happens, you win.”

It wasn’t that simple, though. If his knee gave out again, for good, he would never get to see Dean again. He would have no reason to even talk to Dean again. “Bryan and Brie met while he was still at the top of his game,” he pointed out slowly. “She’s stuck with him even if he is broken.”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe you already met the person who will stick with you even if you’re broken,” he offers.

For some reason it hurts when Dean says it. He spends every day and every night alone, and now that he doesn’t even have his championship belt, he has nothing. Is nothing. Just another name on the roster and nothing to even console him at night.

Dean pushes himself up—using his knee on Seth’s chest, the dick. Seth’s fingers want to cling to the ones wrapped around his even as Dean lets him go, and then Seth is suddenly cold and alone in the middle of the ring.

Dean’s leaving. He’s surprised even though he shouldn’t be, and he sits up quickly, calling after him before he means to. “Dean!”

Dean pauses before stepping through the ropes, looking back at him. “C’mon, man, don’t ruin my moment!” he objects, in his typical Dean-way, half-teasing, half off-the-cuff. “I just gave you a beat down and some deep insightful speech. You’re ruining my cool exit.”

Seth can’t help but laugh, because Dean’s right. “Thank you,” he says.

Dean’s eyes twinkle when he grins, that boyish, teasing, antagonistic grin. “Anytime you want a beat down you just come find me, Seth,” he says. “I’ll put you in your place.”

And then Dean is gone and Seth is left in the middle of the ring. He falls back, interlacing his fingers and covering his eyes with the makeshift blindfold. He was surprised at how much his heart ached for Dean, even after all this time, but a part of him was glad. He was glad it still hurt. Glad he hadn’t given up the Shield and their friendship for anything less.

He smiles at the thought, then laughs. He’s messed up everything; destroyed everything. But he still loves Dean, and that’s something to hold on to.


	5. Falling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after so much time apart, some things never change.

Seth had been surprised when he’d been asked to Vince’s office. He’d been more surprised when he’d seen Stephanie standing at his side. But he stumbles over his own feet when he sees the two men sitting in the folding chairs in front of Vince’s desk—which is really just a folding table set in front of him.

He locks onto blue eyes, then dark brown ones, slowly looking up at Vince, and finally Stephanie. She is a consummate professional, and her face gives away nothing, but he can see something in her eyes and he doesn’t like that look.

“Come on in, Seth. Have a seat. How’s the knee?”

This is definitely not good. Seth slowly takes the open seat on Dean’s other side. “Great, thanks.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to have you back.”

Seth doesn’t dare look to his right. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.”

“Everybody missed their little princess,” a teasing voice breaks in, cavalier and unfairly relaxed. Seth does look over at Dean, then, because Dean hasn’t called him that in years and it throws him back, to a time when he was still doe-eyed and innocent about everything, protected within the strength of the Shield. Dean is grinning, kicked back in his chair, an elbow slung up on the back of his chair.

“We know you have a show to get to,” Vince continues. “So we’ll get right down to business.”

Seth automatically looks up at him, not sure he wants to hear where this is going. He darts another glance at Stephanie, who is carefully keeping her eyes trained on her father. He swallows hard and returns his attention to Vince.

“At Money in the Bank, Seth, you’re going to pin Roman and we’re going to give you back the title.” Seth doesn’t smile, doesn’t even react, because he knows there’s a twist coming or else he wouldn’t be in that office. “And Dean is going to cash in his briefcase as soon as you pin Roman and pin you.”

He’s stunned into silence. He knows he should have expected it, because both Roman and Dean have been killing it with the audience since he left. But he doesn’t expect it. Doesn’t anticipate taking the title back from Roman so quickly, or Dean taking it from him even faster.

And then something he can only describe as pure joy courses through him, because Dean is going to be the champion. Dean has been dreaming about that belt since he was a kid and he’s finally going to get it, and Seth is going to be the one to give it to him.

He laughs out loud, delighted, and turns to Dean. Dean has sat up in his seat, his face oddly blank as he stares at Vince as if he’s trying to decide if Vince is messing with him or not. At his laugh, though, Dean turns to look at him, his eyes burning.

“You did it, man,” Seth says, unable to contain his excitement. And because he’s so happy, he reaches out and claps Dean on the back, squeezing the back of his neck. “You deserve it.”

He hears Roman congratulate Dean as well; vaguely sees Roman patting Dean’s knee affectionately, but he’s too happy to really notice. He looks up at Vince, who looks a little relieved. He feels some of his joy dampened when he looks up at Stephanie and notices, to his surprise, that Stephanie’s eyes look a little wetter than normal.

“We said we were going to take over this company,” Dean finally drawls. Seth looks back at him, releasing his hold on Dean as Dean deliberately slings his arms out onto the back of the chairs on either side of him, behind Seth and Roman. “Three Shield champs in the same night sounds like success to me.”

It’s a sobering statement and Seth feels some more of his delight fade, forcing a smile despite the pang it shoots through him. He nods and returns his attention to Vince, who is walking them through the highlights and key moments. When it’s over, they all head out. Seth wants to congratulate Dean before they part, but the walls have ears so he just nods at his once-brothers and turns away as Roman wraps a proud, affectionate arm around Dean’s shoulders, hugging him close.

Everything goes according to plan, and when he lays there for Dean’s three-count he wants to smile but forces himself to stay still. When the count is over he watches Dean celebrating his victory and he wants to laugh and hug him and it takes everything in him not to jump on Dean and enjoy the moment with him. Instead he plays the villain like he’s supposed to and he waits in the back with the others to congratulate the new champion. To his surprise, Roman stands at his side as they wait, Roman’s hand on his shoulder. It’s dangerous, because there are cameras everywhere, just waiting to see their broken kayfabe moment.

As soon as Dean comes through the curtain Seth knows because there’s a loud cheer and Renee’s scream. Seth smiles, his eyes falling in response before he forces them back up. He plants a grin on his face, just in time to see Dean cut through the crowd clustered around the curtain. Dean’s sweating and his hair is plastered to his head and the belt with Roman’s symbol is still over his shoulder. He’s panting for breath as he stands in front of Seth and Roman, and then he’s suddenly pouncing on them, an arm around each.

“We did it!” Dean shouts, his grip fierce. “We did it!” He’s pounding on Seth’s back, and Seth is hugging him and Roman in what should be an awkward three-man hug but makes him too happy to complain.

“The most dominant force in the world of sport’s entertainment!” Dean shouts, releasing them and throwing out his fist.

It’s instinct that puts his fist in with Dean’s, Roman’s joining theirs just a second later. And they’re all grinning wildly at each other and Seth doesn’t even realize they’ve done it until everything around him explodes in flashes of light and he realizes there are cameras everywhere capturing this private moment. He starts to pull his fist back but Dean responds by wrapping his arms around both Roman and Seth’s shoulders, the belt hooked onto his shoulder.

“Congratulations, Dean,” Seth says, turning into Dean’s ear, patting him lightly on the chest.

Dean’s fingers tighten around his shoulders. “Guess I’m finally good enough for you again, huh?” he asks. He’s grinning, his tone is teasing, but the words send a shock wave through Seth that has him reeling. Dean’s hand runs down his face, and then Dean is swept up in another wave of congratulations, and Seth stumbles away, his mind a fractured mess as he tries to piece together what Dean means, if he means anything at all.

That night he’s in his hotel room, not sleeping, hands behind his head as he stares at the darkened ceiling. He’s got the TV on as always, but he has no idea what’s showing and doesn’t really care. He’s trying not to think about how different it was when he won the championship. He spent that night alone in his room with the belt, but Dean would undoubtedly be out partying, living it up and celebrating.

There’s a knock at his door, and he glances at the clock instinctively. It’s almost 10:30, way past visiting hours—not that he ever has any visitors anyway. He turns on the light, going to the door even as the knocking turns into a pounding.

“I’m coming!” he snaps, alarmed at the noise the visitor is making. They should be glad he’s still awake, because if he’d been woken up after a long night only to tell someone they had the wrong room, he would probably not be pleasant.

He opens the door with a scowl, dodging the fist flying at his face just in time. “Dude!” he objects, looking up into the hall.

“Sorry, princess. Those ninja skills make it hard to hear you coming.” Dean’s hand lands on his head and gives it a slight shake before pushing Seth out of the way. Roman is right behind him, both men carrying overfilled plastic bags.

Seth gapes back at them in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he asks, then looks into the hallway to make sure it’s empty.

“Relax, no one saw us,” Dean calls. Seth can hear the sound of the bags opening, and stuff being dumped out on his bed.

Seth slowly shuts the door, going back to the entrance of the room. Dean and Roman are already settling into place, Dean sitting on Seth’s bed—now covered with an array of chips, cookies, soda, and other snacks that is terrible for them—and Roman in front of the bed on the floor, the remote in his hand and his legs sprawled as he flips channels.

“What are you doing?” Seth asks again, because he’s seen this scene hundreds of times before and it’s a mind fuck because he hasn’t seen it in years.

Dean is tearing open a bag of cookies and pauses, looking down at it and then up at Seth. Slowly he extends his arm. “Eating cookies?”

Seth gapes at him. “Why here?” he asks incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

Dean makes a face at him. “Are you kidding? It’s freezing out there. I’m not going ‘out’ anywhere.”

Seth’s jaw falls. “It’s 82!”

“Then, it’s dark. Whatever.” Dean shoves a cookie in his mouth and then leans down, extending the bag to Roman, who takes one and shoves it in his mouth without looking.

“I… I don’t…” Seth starts, because he feels vaguely lightheaded and he’s not sure what’s going on anymore.

“Oh, come on, princess,” Dean soothes, and there are suddenly hands on his hips, tugging him forward. Seth’s eyes fly open as Dean slowly leads him, stumbling, to the bed. “One night of fun and relaxing won’t kill you.”

“You guys shouldn’t be here,” Seth says, even as he practically falls onto the bed.

Dean snorts. “It’s not like they’ve got cameras in our rooms, Seth.”

“What if someone saw you?” Seth demands.

Dean reclines back on the bed, an arm crooked behind his head on Seth’s pillows, where Seth had been laying just minutes earlier. “So what if they did?” he returns.

“We’ll get in trouble!” Seth snaps. And he doesn’t know why he’s fighting this, because this is all he’s wanted in years. But Dean has too much to lose, now.

“So?” Dean asks, putting another cookie in his mouth. “Are you that scared of mommy and daddy?”

Seth glares at him. “You’re the champion,” he reminds him. “You have too much to lose.”

Dean’s eyes cut from the TV to him. “Then isn’t it my problem to worry about?” he counters.

Seth scowls. “Yes,” he hisses.

“Well I don’t care. So stop being a bitch and shut up.” As if to soften the words, he holds out his bag of cookies.

Seth hesitates, because he isn’t sure what to do. And then, reluctantly, he settles down on the bed. “You’re sure no one saw you?” he asks.

Dean grins. “Positive.” He shakes the bag, and even though Seth follows a strict diet, he takes one, promising himself it’s just one night. Dean’s grin deepens and he sets the bag between them. Seth slowly leans back against the pillows, turning his attention to the television. Roman’s head and Dean’s legs are in his vision as he chews on the cookie, and he tries to burn it all to his memory so he never forgets what it feels like again.

The next morning he wakes up in a pile of discarded chip bags and wrappers and the soft sound of the television. He grimaces at the soreness in his body, forcing his eyes open. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember his eyes growing heavy and the content feeling in his heart as Roman and Dean bantered back and forth about the show they were watching. He comes face-to-face with Dean’s boyish, peaceful face and freezes, his heart jack hammering in his chest.

Dean is on his side, facing Seth, his chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. He looks so different than he used to when they were in the Shield, but just as pretty, and the sight steals Seth’s breath. He stares at him, trying to memorize the curves of Dean’s jaw and the shape of his cheeks and lips, wanting to hold onto the moment forever. He had taken it for granted for so long that he would wake up in the same room as Dean that he’d never tried to just lose himself in the moment, and so many nights over the last two years he had longed for just one picture that he could hold onto to get through the loneliness.

Dean’s eyes suddenly open, and Seth’s breath catches in his throat because Dean has never woken silently. Dean has always groaned and stretched and protested waking up before his eyes even opened, but he’s suddenly staring at Seth, and he’s caught Seth staring and Seth’s cheeks are burning.

Seth tries to figure out something to say; some way to explain why he’s laying there admiring Dean, but nothing comes out and he’s not just humiliated, he’s horrified and isn’t sure how he’s ever going to look at him again.

“Well if that isn’t a fuck-me face, I don’t know what is,” Dean drawls. His lips curve into a mischievous grin. “I’m game, princess, but let’s get Ro out of the room first. That’s a little kinky even for me.”

Seth gapes at him and sits up quickly, cheeks burning, his face twisted into a scowl. “I was trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing here,” he snaps, a little more breathlessly than he’d like.

“Sleeping.” Dean sits up and stretches with a loud groan, rolling his shoulders. “Shit that hurts. Go easy on me out there today, huh? I got beat up with ladders last night.”

Seth looks back at the couch, where Roman is still snoring. “You two need to go,” he says.

“What, you want us to do the walk of shame? Is that any way to treat us after our night together?”

Seth turns on him. “Someone could see you,” he hisses. He looks at the clock, then back at Dean. “It’s almost 9:00, Dean! People are going to be getting up and heading out for the day.”

“What, do you have a sign on your door that says ‘Seth Rollins’ that I missed?” Dean tosses back. He picks up a container of crackers and tosses it at Roman’s head. It bounces off with a crunching sound. Roman bolts up on the couch, holding his head and scowling back at Dean.

“What the fuck, man?” Roman demands.

“Seth’s kicking us out. He’s apparently the type to sleep-and-run.” Dean stands and stretches, looking back at Seth thoughtfully. “I kind of pictured you as a roses and breakfast in bed kind of man, though. I’m a little disappointed, Seth.”

Seth seriously considers murdering him. “Shut that pretty little mouth or I’ll show you _exactly_ what kind of man I am, Ambrose.”

He’s horrified when Dean’s face lights up from the inside, delight the only emotion Seth can probably put to it. “Anytime, baby,” he purrs.

“I’d hoped you two would have grown up in the last two years,” Roman sighs. “I can see I was clearly idealistic.”

Dean laughs. “Some things never change, huh, Seth?” he asks, his eyes meeting Seth’s even as his arms sweep the discarded trash and uneaten snacks into a plastic bag.

Seth isn’t sure what exactly he means, but he knows Dean is poking fun at him and so he just says, “Fuck you, Dean.”

“Anytime.” Dean stands, looking back at Roman, who’s stretching to his full height and grimacing. “What’s wrong with you?” Dean demands.

Roman stops stretching and gapes at him. “I got my ass kicked last night,” he reminds him, deliberately gesturing to Seth. “And then I spent the night on a couch that’s less comfortable than sleeping on the floor.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Bitch,” he declares. He ties up the bag of trash and tosses it next to the garbage can before looking over at Seth. “Do you want to check if the coast is clear?” he offers, his voice and smile like saccharine.

Seth glares at him. “Just don’t get caught, jackass.”

Dean grins. “I got this,” he declares. He and Roman head to the door and disappear into the tiny hallway. Seth looks down at the bed, shaking his head, gasping when Dean is suddenly there again, his arms wrapped around Seth in a tight embrace. “Thank you,” Dean says, and his voice is soft and meaningful. “This was exactly how I wanted to celebrate.” His heart drops into his stomach when Dean kisses the side of his head and then pats his cheek before turning away and walking out of the room.

The room is too empty when they’re gone. He can still hear the echoes of their voices in his head when he showers and as he packs up, and he leaves the room as quickly as he can because the only thing worse than losing something is still being able to feel it.

The show is good, and he hates how much he loves being on the stage and in the ring with Dean again. He knows the crowd loves it, too, and it’s hard for him not to grin at how much fun he’s having and how comfortable it still is to wrestle with Dean, even after all this time. When the match is over he makes the four hour drive to the next show and isn’t even that exhausted, despite the late hour. He’s almost smiling when he heads up to his room on the fourth floor and immediately crashes into the bed.

There’s a knock at his door as soon as he flops down and he lets out a muffled groan into the bed. It’s 3:20 A.M. and there’s no way it’s room service at this hour. He drags himself to his feet and staggers to the door, prepared to tell the confused drunk that he’s got the wrong room.

But as soon as he opens the door someone slides in past him and he jumps, wide-eyed as he turns to look at who it is.

“Dean?” he asks incredulously.

Dean tosses his bag carelessly on the floor beside the dresser and steps out of his shoes. “What took you so long?” he complains. “I’ve been waiting for almost an hour. And you wouldn’t believe some the excuses I had to come up with to explain why I’ve been sitting in the hall.” He looks up at Seth in disbelief. “Can you believe they stuck security on me three times? Three times, Seth. In an _hour_.” He shakes his head, then grins with a shrug. “Guess that means I look pretty intimidating, huh?”

Seth can only gape at him. “What are you _doing_ here?” he demands.

Dean smiles innocently. “I got locked out of my room.”

Seth’s jaw falls. “Then go to the front desk and get another key.”

“I have the key,” he corrects, holding it up.

Seth draws back, confused. “Then go use it,” he orders, bewildered.

“It won’t do any good.” Dean kneels next to his bag, rummaging through it for a pair of pajama bottoms, and to Seth’s disbelief, tugs off his shirt.

“You do realize you’re not making any sense, right?”

Dean tosses his shirt in his bag and slings his pajama pants over one shoulder as he turns back to face Seth. “The door’s bolted from the inside.”

Seth stares at him, closes his eyes, and tries to follow Dean’s twisted logic. “How did you manage to leave with the bolt closed?”

“It was closed after I left.” Dean tugs off his jeans and slides into his pajama bottoms.

Seth blinks a few times, the dots finally connecting in his brain. “Renee locked you out?” he asks, stunned.

“Give the man a prize!” Dean carols. He tugs off his socks and tosses them onto his shoes before going to the bed and dropping down onto it.

Seth frowns. “Why did she lock you out?”

Dean shrugs. “She does that sometimes.”

Seth slowly follows him to the bed. “Why don’t you just charm your way back in?”

Dean grins, turning on his side and propping his head up on his hand. He looks painfully adorable and sexy laying there, shirtless, stretched out on Seth’s bed. Seth wants to look away, but can’t bring himself to. “Because I just charmed my way into your bed instead.”

Seth flushes, and then he can look away. He stands. “Go stay with Roman,” he orders, pointing to the door.

“Can’t. He’s asleep by now.” Dean falls back on the bed, his hands behind his head. “Can we stop talking and sleep now? I’m exhausted.”

Seth wants to protest, but he’s out of arguments and he is tired, so he changes into a pair of pajamas and climbs into bed, flipping off the light even as Dean turns on the TV. The soft hum and flickering lights of an infomercial fill the room, and soon the sound mixes with the Dean’s steady breathing. Seth’s mind is spinning and he’s exhausted but can’t bring himself to sleep.

When he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see there’s light behind the curtains of the hotel room and the bed beside him is empty but he can hear the shower running. He sits up quickly, his eyes falling on Dean’s bag on the floor, the title belt visible under his jeans.

The door to the bathroom opens and Dean’s standing there as steam plumes into the room. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet hair is falling in curls around his face. He’s clean shaven and smiling down at Seth and Seth almost loses it—almost stands and pins him against the wall because he’s going to crack if Dean keeps looking at him like that.

“Well good morning, princess. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up.” Dean kneels in front of his bag, tossing aside a pair of boxers, his jeans, and a t-shirt.

Seth automatically looks at the clock beside the bed, horrified to see it reads almost 11:00 A.M. “Shit,” he swears quickly, bolting past Dean and into the bathroom. “Why didn’t my alarm go off?”

“It did. I turned it off.”

Seth is in the middle of discarding his clothes on the bathroom floor, but he pauses to glare into the bedroom at Dean, who’s pulling on his jeans. “Why the fuck did you do that?” he demands furiously.

“Because you looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bear to wake you.” Dean grins and Seth is tempted to punch him but instead settles for slamming the door shut. As he’s getting into the shower he sees the counter littered with Dean’s toiletries and it’s almost like two years haven’t gone by.

He showers quickly, hearing the door open as he’s washing shampoo from his hair. “Grabbing my stuff,” Dean calls, and then there’s some rattling and the door shuts. When Seth steps out of the bathroom the room is empty. There’s a piece of paper on his bed in Dean’s block-lettered scrawl. Seth picks it up, frowning down at it.

_Thanks_.

He spends an extra hour at the gym, trying to burn off some of the nervous energy built up inside of him. He sleeps on the plane and he’s lucky Tyler is there to wake him, because he wouldn’t have gotten up otherwise. He rents a car and drives to the hotel to check in. He checks all around him to make sure there’s no sign of Dean and tells himself he’s not disappointed when there’s not. He ignores how empty the room seems and drives to the venue.

When the show is over he drives right back to the hotel, curling up on his bed still fully clothed.

His phone beeps at him and he groans, pulling it out of his pocket and shoving it away from him. A minute later it beeps again, followed by another beep a few seconds later. He grunts and looks down at the texts, sitting up when he sees Dean’s name on the display. He opens the messages quickly.

_You better open the door if you don’t want anyone to see me out here._

_Seth!_

_You’re rooming next to a fan but don’t think I won’t start pounding on the door in a minute._

He flies to the door, throwing it open. Dean is standing there with two plastic bags that smell mouthwateringly delicious, his suitcases behind him.

“Finally,” Dean declares, exasperated. He steps in past Seth. “Grab my bags, will you?”

Seth wordlessly does as he’s instructed, pulling the bags inside before shutting and bolting the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Seth asks, watching as Dean sets the bags on the bed and begins opening them.

“Eating.” Dean opens one of the Styrofoam containers and makes a face. “All-white chicken teriyaki and whole-grain rice with steamed vegetables,” he says, setting it on the other side of the bed. He grins wickedly as he opens the other containers. “And real food.” It looks like steak and chow mein and Seth wants to tell him how bad that is for him but he doesn’t.

“Did you get thrown out again?” Seth asks, frowning.

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Are you going to throw me out again?” he asks.

Seth draws back. “I meant Renee.”

“Oh. I didn’t try.” Dean rummages through the bag and pulls out a plastic fork.

Seth hesitantly joins him at the bed. “You know you can’t keep doing this,” he tells Dean slowly. “You’re going to get caught.”

Dean flashes a grin at him. “And doesn’t that make it all the more exciting?” he teases.

It doesn’t. It doesn’t because he just wants to be able to be with Dean and Roman again, without being afraid of being spotted. Without it being wrong.

Without wishing he could wrap his arms around Dean and never let go.

“C’mon, eat,” Dean orders, pointing at the open Styrofoam container on Seth’s side of the bed. “I got it right, didn’t I?”

He did. He did and Seth loves and hates him for it. “Yeah,” he admits, picking up the container and taking the fork Dean extends to him.

Dean talks about their next match, and some new moves he wants to try. Before Seth knows it, they’re both getting into it, excitedly suggesting new holds and counters, and their food containers are discarded in the trash and it’s nearly 2:00 A.M. but they’re still going strong. Seth finally insists they have to go to bed, but even in the darkness they lay there and occasionally one of them tosses out a thought and they get going again. It’s past 4:00 by the time Seth finally falls asleep, but he’s smiling and for the first time in years, excited about the next day.


	6. Worth it in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night can change everything.

His body hurts.

Every muscle is screaming at him to just lay down, but he and Dean have practiced and practiced the next piece of their carefully orchestrated dance, and he just needs to hold on a little longer. He’s going to give Dean a piece of his mind tonight, though, because Dean cracked his head against the edge of the stairs and he’s bleeding and he’s probably going to need stitches when the match is over.

Dean picks him up, and Seth lifts himself up on Dean’s hands, the two of them in perfect alignment, just like they rehearsed. And then he swings his weight down and he and Dean are crashing down on the stage, the heat from the lights of the backdrop almost burning his bare arms. He and Dean are both panting, and he drags his body over Dean’s, hooking his arm under Dean’s leg.

Dean kicks out after two, and Seth pounds his hand on the metal, falling back onto the stage. For a moment they both just lay there, breathing, the roar of the crowd dim compared to their panting. The stage is shaking slightly, and Seth tries not to frown as he eyes the heavy set around them. As inconspicuously as he can, he looks over at Dean, whose eyes are also on the heavy set towering above their heads. Dean stands, dragging Seth to his feet, and he knows they’re both thinking they need to get away from the set because it doesn’t seem to be—

And then Seth is flying off the stage and crashing onto the concrete below amidst a rumble unlike anything he’s heard before. His ankles and knees and back all jolt at the shock and pain of his landing, his back stinging where Dean shoved him. He whips around as the stage continues to shake, and the set is in pieces, piled on top of where he and Dean had just been standing.

Horror unlike anything he’s ever felt shakes him, and he’s vaulting up onto the stage, because there’s no sign of Dean and the overly audacious set is sparking. “Dean!” he shouts, and it’s pure adrenaline that allows him to toss aside a piece of metal almost as tall as he is. “Dean!”

And there are people everywhere, security and referees and Roman is shouting at him. “Lift!” So he and Roman lift the shattered screen that’s slightly on fire and then they move another piece of metal and there he is, laying unconscious on the stage, the top of his head matted in blood.

“Dean,” Seth cries, and he goes to dive to Dean’s side, but Roman’s there, holding him back as the medical personnel swarm him.

Seth wants to throw up. He wants to throw up and he’s on live television and he and Roman broke kayfabe in the worst way and he doesn’t care; he doesn’t care if Vince fires all of them as long as Dean’s okay.

He and Roman race along the side of the stretcher as Dean’s unconscious body is wheeled out of the arena and to the ambulance. He tries to shove his way into the ambulance, but Vince is there and takes the only available seat. Roman grabs his arm and drags him to the parking lot and they’re tearing out of the arena, following the ambulance.

Seth just feels sick, and he can’t breathe and thinks he might throw up. Dean shoved him off the stage to save him, he knows it, and he loves Dean so much he wants to die.

A hand grips his shoulder and Seth barely acknowledges Roman’s comforting gesture. “That hard head is going to need more than a few hundred pounds of metal to crack it,” Roman says.

Seth wants to laugh but he can’t. He just lets out a shaky breath and sits in silence beside Roman in the waiting room until Stephanie and Shane approach and tell them that they can go to see him. Dean is still unconscious and he’s had his head put back together with almost 40 staples, but his neck isn’t broken and neither is anything else.

Seth doesn’t care that there are cameras everywhere as he and Roman are led to Dean’s room. He looks small in the hospital bed, his head wrapped up in gauze. Seth takes the chair closest to the bed and grabs Dean’s hand, Roman placing a hand on Dean’s leg.

“We’re here, buddy,” Roman says. “You did good. Our little princess walked away without a scratch.”

A sob escapes Seth and he realizes it’s the first time he’s made that sound since he walked away from the Shield years ago. He rests his head in his hand with his elbow on the bed beside Dean, gripping Dean’s hand tightly enough that his own fingers ache. He can’t bring himself to speak, because he knows he’ll just cry, so he just sits there, holding Dean’s hand, side pressed against Roman’s, praying for Dean to wake up.

* * *

He doesn’t know where he is when he wakes up, but the fabric under his cheek is scratchy and thin and his fingers are sore and someone is running their fingers through his hair. His body aches more than it has in a long time, and he has a hard time opening his eyes.

As he does, the fingers slide to behind his ear, a hand resting against his cheek. He blinks a few times, following the wrist up the arm, his gaze locking onto deep blue eyes.

He bolts up, breaking Dean’s grip on him. His heart races as they stare at each other. “Dean?” he finally chokes out.

Dean’s lips curl into a grin. “Did my face get that fucked up?” he asks, reaching his IV-covered hand up to his face and feeling along it.

“No,” Seth breathes. “It’s perfect.” Dean’s hand stills along his jaw, his eyes not leaving Seth’s. Seth quickly clears his throat, leaning back. “How are you feeling? Let me get the doctor.” He half-stands, reaching over Dean for the call button.

He’s frozen by Dean’s hand on his cheek, turning Seth’s face to meet his, studying him from just inches away. “You’re okay?” Dean asks.

Seth lets out a shaky breath. “I’m fine. Some jackass threw me off a stage and sprained my ankle, but I’m fine.”

Dean’s face splits into a grin and his grip on Seth’s face releases. “Yeah? And how did the jackass fair?”

Seth hits the call button for the doctor. “He got 40 staples in his head, but is astonishingly otherwise unscathed.”

Dean reaches up and winces as he touches the wrap around his head. “That would explain the throbbing,” he drawls. There are footsteps in the door and Seth turns to see the doctor standing there. “Hey, what’s it take to get some morphine around here?” Dean complains. “I’ve got 40 staples in my head.”

“41,” the doctor retorts. Seth laughs out loud. Even Dean has to laugh. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Well, I’ve got kind of a headache.”

The doctor grins. “Okay. Let’s see if we can take the edge off.” He pulls a vial out of his pocket and injects something into Dean’s IV. Seth watches as the tenseness in Dean’s shoulders slowly fades and he sinks back into the pillows. The doctor starts asking Dean questions, and Seth leans back in his chair, forcing himself to breathe because Dean is okay, and he’s going to be all right.

When the attendants come to wheel Dean out to take him for tests, Dean’s blurry eyes meet Seth’s. “Be here when I get back,” he orders.

Seth squeezes his arm. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

And then Dean is gone and the room is strangely empty. Seth goes to get a cup of coffee, more for something to do than because he really wants it. When he’s alone in Dean’s room again, he pulls out his phone to distract himself, eyes widening at the dozens of text messages on his phone. The most recent one is from Roman, saying he’s gone home to shower and he’ll be back soon. Seth checks the time, and figures Roman will be back in a few minutes based on the time stamp. Almost on cue, Roman strolls into the room and stops short.

“Where is he?” Roman asks.

“Getting some tests run.”

“He okay?” Roman drops into the chair next to Seth, placing a paper bag in his lap.

“Yeah.” Seth laughs dryly. “Somehow.” He opens the paper bag, seeing a breakfast sandwich inside. “Thanks.”

“Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Roman reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic bag. Through the white plastic, Seth can see the brand of his favorite protein bars. Roman tosses it on the table.

Seth smiles at him gratefully, realizing as soon as the breakfast sandwich is in his hand just how hungry he is. He devours it and two of the protein bars in minutes.

“Have you seen the footage?” Roman asks.

Seth frowns. “What footage?” he asks.

“Of the accident.”

Seth draws back. He doesn’t have any interest in watching Dean get crushed by hundreds of pounds of steel, but Roman pulls out his phone and shoves it in his face. Seth almost pushes it away, but reluctantly hits the play button.

He and Dean are both laying on the stage, looking utterly exhausted and beaten up. He watches as they both look up and then over at each other, remembering the look they had exchanged when they both realized something was wrong. On the screen, Dean reaches down and drags Seth to his feet, and then there’s a cracking sound that drives a stake through Seth’s heart. Dean’s head snaps up as part of the set starts to fall, and then Dean is shoving Seth as hard as he can, Seth flying off of the stage just a split second before Dean is crushed under the falling metal. Seth winces, squeezing his eyes shut as more pieces of the set fall on the first, burying Dean under the steel.

“God,” Seth breathes shakily. He watches as the him on the screen looks up in sheer terror at the pile of metal, his heart skipping as he remembers the blinding fear at the sight. On the screen, he vaults to his feet and up onto the stage, lifting and tossing aside a piece of metal he doubts he’s actually strong enough to lift. And then there are people everywhere, and Roman is yelling at him and Seth is yelling Dean’s name, and they’re throwing debris off of the pile, trying to get to Dean. He watches as the medical crew finally swarms the revealed wrestler, and Roman is holding Seth back from Dean’s side, both of their faces twisted in horror.

Seth shoves the phone back into Roman’s hand.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Seth’s head snaps back to Roman as the larger man shuts off the screen. “Cool?” he chokes out. “Dean almost died.”

Roman nods in agreement. “He knew it, too. And his only thought was pushing you out of the way.”

Seth stares at him, because he knows Roman’s casual tone is a cover, but he’s not entirely sure what Roman’s trying to say—doesn’t dare hope Roman is saying what he thinks he is.

“Man, if you only knew what I’ve had to put up with the last couple of years,” Roman groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’d be down on your knees begging for my forgiveness.”

Seth frowns at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

Roman arches an eyebrow at him. “You think we didn’t know you asked for the Shield to be dissolved?” he asks.

Seth feels the words like one of Roman’s punches. “What?” he asks breathlessly.

“We’re not idiots, Seth.”

Seth stares at him, because he isn’t sure what to say. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks.

Roman shrugs. “Because if you’d wanted us to know why, you would have told us.”

Seth feels like nothing makes sense anymore. “I… I…”

Roman gives him an affectionate smile. “I know. But maybe you should tell Dean, too.”

Seth gapes at him in confusion. “What?”

Roman holds up his phone. “Doesn’t he deserve to know?” he asks.

Seth is saved from answering because Dean is being wheeled back into the room, and he’s high on painkillers and he greets them with slurred joy. “Where the hell have you been?” Dean asks Roman.

Roman grins. “I went back to shower. I knew your hard head would be fine.”

“Damn straight. Ain’t nothin’ can keep Dean Ambrose down.” Dean flashes a half thumbs up at them that makes them laugh because he’s too drugged up to realize his hand is sideways.

They’re there for a few more hours before Vince shows up, lawyers in tow. Dean’s still medicated but he’s not fully out of it, so Seth hesitates before leaving the room but does it at Dean’s nod. He and Roman get lunch in the cafeteria, then head back up to the room, where Dean is alone and poking at a piece of chicken that looks like Styrofoam.

“This is disgusting,” Dean declares. “I ate your protein bar. I’m not sure which was worse.”

Seth laughs. “What did Vince say?”

Dean shrugs. “Don’t sue, we’ll settle, blah blah.”

Seth draws back in surprise. “He offered you money?”

Dean stops and stares up at him. “His shitty set put 40 stitches in my head. Yeah, he offered me money.”

“Did you take it?”

“Hell no.” Dean returns his attention to the wilted vegetables on his plate.

Seth doesn’t know why, but he’s relieved at the news. A few hours later the doctor comes in to discharge Dean, and it’s only when Seth is driving ten miles below the speed limit to keep from jostling Dean’s head does he realize no one even asked if he would take care of Dean.

And that’s how he finds himself at Dean’s house hours later, carefully helping Dean into his house and up to his room.

And it shouldn’t be easy or natural, but it is. He cooks and they watch TV and Seth drives Dean to his doctor appointments and makes sure he takes his medication. Roman comes for a few days and it’s amazing because it isn’t weird at all and Seth is buzzing around the house like it’s his.

He spends the first few nights waking up every few hours to check on Dean, and on the third day he ends up falling asleep beside him and when Dean finds out what he’s been doing, Dean insists Seth just stay with him so he can get a decent night of sleep. And when Roman comes Seth goes to sleep on the couch, but when he wakes up Dean is stretched out next to him so the next night he goes back to Dean’s bed and Roman doesn’t say a word.

He’s there for two weeks when Vince calls him and gently reminds him that he has fans who are expecting him. He reminds Vince he’s got a sprained ankle and Bray got almost three months off to recover from that, but he agrees to go back the next week anyway. Dean is sullen when he breaks the news to him, and complains that it’s Vince’s set that put him on bed rest and now Vince is stealing his nurse.

Seth wants to cry when he leaves, and it’s only Dean promising to join him soon that gets him to go. He’s shocked when Vince tells him he’s going in as Roman’s ally, and even more shocked at the reception he gets when he steps out through the curtain. Roman calls him brother and he’s so delighted that he can’t even disguise how good it feels.

And then it’s him and Roman against the Authority, and he’s suddenly not alone in the car traveling from venue to venue anymore. And he has someone to eat meals with and talk to backstage and he remembers why he loved wrestling in the first place. He and Roman are practically selling out of merchandise, and Stephanie hugs him and Vince claps them on the shoulder and Seth can’t help but wish Dean were there to enjoy it with them.

And Dean does come back, and they’re the reunited Shield both on and off screen, and Seth is as happy as he was once miserable. Dean is sharing his room and Seth finds out from Roman that Dean broke up with Renee weeks before his accident.

But Dean’s still not 100% and Seth frets over him, and when the clock ticks 3:42 A.M. and Seth is still alone in the room, Seth is beside himself with worry and anger.

The key in the door drives him to his feet and he bolts to the door as Dean staggers in, the stench of alcohol wafting off of him. Seth recoils in disgust, horrified. “Where the hell have you been?” he demands.

Dean shuts the door behind him. “Drinking. Why are you so pissed off?”

Seth gapes at him. “Because I’ve been worried sick, Dean! You’re still recovering and we’ve got to be at the arena in six hours!”

Dean leans against the wall, beside the cheap mirror hanging there, his eyes closed. “You sound like a jealous girlfriend,” he says, and Seth takes a step back because it’s like déjà vu, and they’re back to three years ago all over again. Dean straightens, his hands reaching out for Seth’s hips. “If you’re going to act like my girlfriend can I at least get some?”

Seth feels sick. “Fuck you, Dean,” he whispers. He tries to take a step forward, around him, but he’s suddenly pinned against the wall, and Dean’s eyes are unnervingly sharp in the moonlight and the amount of alcohol it smells like he’s been drinking.

“Not this time,” he growls, and Dean’s body is pressed against his, pinning him to the wall, his fingers gripped fiercely around Seth’s wrists. “I think it’s time you and I had ourselves a little conversation,” he says. “Because three years ago you used to give me that ‘fuck me’ look all the time. And then you suddenly walked away.” Seth gapes at him, stricken sick by Dean’s words. “I thought maybe I’d come on too strong or misread you, but I know you pretty well and I’m pretty sure I didn’t. So explain to me, Seth, how we ended up here.”

Seth can barely breathe. He tries to swallow, but it sticks in his throat. “You’re drunk,” he finally says. “Let me go, Dean.”

“So you can leave me again?” Dean counters. “I don’t think so. Not this time.”

Seth looks away. “Let me go,” he repeats, and he wants to cry.

“No.”

“Dean, please.”

“I do like it when you beg.”

Anger flares up at him and he snaps his head back to meet Dean’s eyes. “You’re a sick motherfucker,” he growls quietly.

“I never said I wasn’t.” Dean’s hand releases Seth’s wrist, and slowly, gently, cups Seth’s cheek. When he leans forward, Seth tries to jerk his head away, but Dean’s hand tightens its grip and he’s locked in place, his vision of Dean’s eyes swimming.

“You’re drunk,” Seth whispers again, desperation in his voice.

Dean stares at him. “If I wasn’t, would that change anything?”

Seth swallows. “No.”

Dean considers it, then shrugs, and again leans down. Seth clenches his eyes shut, tears sliding down his cheeks as he braces himself, flinching.

But the kiss never comes, and when Seth opens his eyes, Dean is staring down at him, an unreadable look on his face. “Can I really not make you happy?” Dean asks, and his voice is soft and almost sad.

Seth stares up at him, bewildered. “What?” he asks.

Dean gives him a gentle smile. Then he leans forward and lightly kisses Seth’s cheek. “You win again, Seth,” he says. And then the weight pinning Seth against the wall is gone and Dean takes another step back. Takes a step to the door. “I’m sorry.”

Seth is so confused he stumbles after him. “What?” he asks again. He reaches for Dean’s arm. “Dean, what are you—“

Dean’s arm snaps out of his grip.

Seth falls back, recoiling. And they’re both just standing there, staring at each other, and Seth is scared because something feels final about all of this and he isn’t ready to lose Dean, not yet, not again. “I don’t understand,” he finally chokes out.

Dean smiles gently. “I think I finally do,” he says. He lets out a quick breath, and then laughs and holds out his hands. “I’m Dean Ambrose, sexy motherfucker, but unstable and not really suitable to settle down with. I can’t say I blame you. I probably wouldn’t want to settle down with me, either—“

Seth launches himself at Dean; wraps his arms fiercely around Dean’s neck. “What are you talking about?” he demands. His voice breaks and he doesn’t care. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

His hair is yanked back and he gasps as his head is tugged backwards. And then lips are crushing his, arms locked around him. Heat is rolling off of Dean and yet it’s Seth whose shirt is ripped off, and his back is against the cold wall and he’s freezing and burning and Dean is lifting him and he’s falling back on the bed and Dean’s on top of him.

And it’s better than anything he ever imagined because it’s real and Dean is whispering his name and growling softly and his hands are everywhere, but Dean is drunk and Seth forces himself to break away.

“You’re drunk,” Seth reminds him breathlessly.

“You think I only love you when I’m drunk?” Dean demands.

Seth snaps back to look at him so quickly he sees stars. “What?” he whispers.

Dean takes him down easily, propping up an elbow on either side of Seth’s head. Seth doesn’t remember when Dean lost his shirt, but he shivers at the feel of the bare flesh against his own. “You want me to say it again?” Dean asks. And from this close all Seth can see is Dean’s eyes in the moonlight. “I’ll say it every day for the rest of our lives if you promise not to leave me ever again.”

Seth works for a response, but nothing comes out, and Dean almost laughs. “Is that a yes?” he asks. “Because if you promise me, Seth, I won’t let you break it.”

Seth hesitates. “Isn’t this something we should discuss when we’re both sober?”

A wry smile touches Dean’s lips. “I never said I was drunk,” he reminded him. “You did.”

Seth frowns. “You smell like alcohol. And you taste like it.”

Dean grins so suddenly that Seth’s suddenly embarrassed. “I had a shot,” Dean tells him. “One. About three hours ago. And then someone spilled their glass of tequila on me.”

Seth’s breath catches in his throat. “So you’re…”

“As sober as you.” Dean leans down; kisses him lightly, then pulls back. “Is it a promise?” he asks.

He wants to cry. He wants to cry and he can barely speak. “I promise.”

“Say it,” Dean orders.

Seth swallows the lump in his throat. “I promise I’ll never leave you.”

Dean grins. “I love you,” he tells Seth. His grin turns wicked. “And I want to lick every inch of your gorgeous body every day for the rest of our lives.”

Seth shivers. Dean laughs; leans down and presses his mouth against Seth’s again. And this time Seth lets him truly enjoy it and surrenders to everything that is Dean Ambrose. And decides it was all worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this and left comments and/or gave kudos! Every day I looked forward to checking for new feedback, and it always lifted my spirits to see when I had. So thank you. I hope you enjoyed!


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